


Confessions

by TerenceFletcher



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Coda, Episode: s12e12 Stuck In The Middle (With You), Eventual Romance, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-18
Updated: 2017-02-18
Packaged: 2018-09-25 08:44:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9811790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TerenceFletcher/pseuds/TerenceFletcher
Summary: A little coda to 12x12 (one does not simply pass it by).Dean and Castiel talk.





	

“This was awkward,” Castiel said. “These last minute words... Well, not actually last minute, as it turned out, so... Quite stupid.”

He seemed fine— at least not closely as bad as he did at that barn— but still a bit confused and frowning for some deeply hidden reason. He didn’t change, didn’t even take the bloodied rag away from his waist, it was still there, its ends hanging loose as Mary had left them, covering now the apparently healthy body. He watched intensely the leaves being blown by the cold wind, swirling in the air and flying away from the bunker door. It was always windy by the entrance, as if to clear the visitors’ minds, and as if all unnecessary thoughts were forbidden to enter.

It never worked with Dean, though. All the way back he was trying to get rid of that nasty stunning feeling that had struck him at the barn, he forced himself to think everything was okay now, and Cas was alive, and they were all safe, but by the time he stopped the engine, it was obvious that he had failed. His hands kept trembling and something weird was stuck in the throat, like he had swallowed a plush ball.

“No way someone’s last words can be stupid,” he said. “Trust me, I’m an expert.”

Castiel shook his head. “I don’t know. It was... It was so different.”

“Different from what?”

“From the previous times.” He glanced at his hands, turning palms upside down, as if he couldn’t believe they still moved and weren’t dark red of blood. “I’ve been killed before, Dean. More than once. More than twice, actually. But every previous time, it was almost an instant death, I never felt like I was dying for more than a moment. Even with April, the reaper, do you remember? There were, um, some tortures before, but then— then it was very fast.”

“I remember,” Dean hissed through his teeth. “I’d like to forget, but I remember.”

“So you see, it was different. But today, with all of you standing there, around me, looking at me... I believe it wasn’t very pleasant, but you kept looking, Dean.” Cas didn’t mention the only moment Dean had bent his head down, praying desperately and in vain to whoever could hear him. Maybe Cas hadn’t noticed. “I felt it was probably my last chance to say... To tell you...”

Cas cut off, and Dean looked up. The confessions he had heard still echoed in his head, each word struggling out through the sharp breathing, but oddly clear to the least sound of it. Dean could not imagine how much effort it had required from Cas, with all the suffering of the freaking magic eating him from inside,— and he didn’t want to.

He suddenly thought that he started to realize what he’d really heard only now, miles and hours away. Back at the barn, he’d been just staring, shocked and helpless, his mind crying out mutely the only short word,— _no, no, no_ ,— over and over again. It just never came to focusing on the words. _The hell with these five stages of acceptance,_ he thought. _I don’t get over the first one, I kinda stuck in the middle between denial and anger._ He knew he’d never been good with saying words, and obviously, he wasn’t good with listening either.

But now it was easier. Now that Dean didn’t have to accept anything— it was so much easier.

 _“_ It wasn’t stupid, Cas,” he repeated softly. “Anything but stupid. And I know you meant every word of it. And you being alive doesn’t change it.”

Cas nodded, “Yes. Every single word.” He finally stopped watching the leaves and came closer to Dean, all tightened, looking straight into the eyes. Then he took Dean’s right hand and squeezed it firmly in his palms. “I still mean it.”

“I know.” Dean put his left hand on top of Cas’s fingers, still wrapped over him like a delicate lock, warm and safe, every inch of it so right in place. This light version of a hug somehow felt more intimate than any real hug they’d used to have. Dean cleared his throat and added, “And, Cas, just for the record... I feel the same. Completely. In case you’d like to know.”


End file.
